Welcome to the Madness
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: Dr. Harleen Quinzel receives a visit from Batman warning her to beware of her patient. Little does Batman know his warning comes too late, and Harleen has already submitted to the madness of love.


**Welcome to the Madness **

She opened the door to her office and crept inside, leaving the lights off as she shut it firmly behind her. Then she carefully went over to her desk, flicking on the lamp and opening a drawer.

"Working late, Dr. Quinzel?" asked a voice from the shadows, making her start. A figure stepped out of the darkness, the figure of a man dressed in a bat costume. Her surprise quickly changed to annoyance.

"Breaking and entering is a crime, Batman, as I'm sure you know," she snapped, straightening up. "What are you doing in my office?"

"I was just examining your files," he retorted, tossing one casually onto the desk.

"You could have arranged for a meeting with me and just asked to see them, rather than breaking in," she retorted.

"You would have said no," he replied.

"Yes, but it would have been polite to ask," she replied. "And, need I repeat, it's against the law. You're not only guilty of burglary, but of invading my patient's privacy as well."

"Your patient and I go way back," retorted Batman. "There aren't many secrets I don't know about him. I've heard everything written in there before."

"So why did you feel the need to break into my office and read it?" she asked, casually.

"Mostly I wanted to see your notes," he retorted. "What you've written about him. You're very protective of your patient, Dr. Quinzel."

She shrugged. "He's a mentally ill man. He deserves some sympathy."

"Your notations suggest that you are more than a little…partial to his views," he retorted. "Especially concerning me."

"Sorry if this offends you, Batman, but you must realize that I don't like you," she said. "I don't like your attitude, your presumed superiority to everyone else, your arrogance, your self-righteousness, your eagerness to use violence to get what you want, and, if it comes right down to it, your sense of fashion," she retorted.

"Perhaps there are things we don't see eye to eye on," agreed Batman. "But I believe we both want to help people. I do that how I think best, and so do you."

"Forgive me if I'm not flattered by the comparison," she retorted.

Batman hesitated. "I admire your sympathy and compassion towards your patient, Dr. Quinzel, I truly do," he said. "But I'm afraid you might have become a little too…attached to him."

"Just what the hell are you implying?" she demanded. "I'm a doctor, Batman, a professional. Any attachment I have towards my patient is a purely professional one."

"I didn't mean to imply anything like that," he replied.

"Then watch your tone," she retorted. "I'm a psychiatrist – I tend to read into what people say beyond the words themselves. And you really don't want to know what kinds of conclusions I've come to about you."

He was silent. "As I said, your notes convey a certain partiality toward your patient and his views," he said. "And while I commend your sympathy, I want to dissuade you from trying to think like him too much. Once you start down the road to madness, there's no turning back from it."

"And as I said, I'm a psychiatrist, Batman," she retorted. "It's my job to try to think like my patient. It's the only way to help cure him. It's the only way to understand him, not that you could care less about that."

"I'm not really interested in the motivations of evil people, unless finding that out will make them stop doing it," he retorted. "Which in most cases, it doesn't. Your patient is motivated by his sick, twisted sense of humor. I understand that, but that hasn't stopped him causing havoc and mayhem."

"He's not evil," she murmured. "No one is evil."

"Let's not debate terminology," he retorted.

"No, let's," she retorted. "It's very easy for you, very easy for everyone, to just label my patient as evil, crazy, insane, all those terms people use to dismiss him. Even if he is all those things, he is still a human being, and does not deserve to be callousy excluded by society. He's an incredibly intelligent man – perhaps if he were taken a little more seriously, he could actually be quite valuable to society."

"He's the one who chooses the clown persona," he retorted. "Seems to me he doesn't want to be taken seriously. Seems to me he doesn't care about anything but his fun, which always involves hurting innocent people. He's a man who believes himself to be somehow superior to others, to somehow have a right to do whatever he wants, without consideration of the cost to others. He's a monster."

"And what does that make you, then?" she demanded. "Oh, perhaps what he wants to do is harm innocent people, while you wish to harm ones you consider to be guilty. But they're still people, aren't they? Do you even think about that when you're beating them to a pulp? When you're beating my patient to a pulp, do you consider that he might have feelings? That he might be in pain? Or has he just become a monster in your eyes, something that deserves agony, something that can't really feel pain, a punching bag that you can just pound over and over again and will just take your abuse? Do you ever feel guilty for hurting him as much as you have?"

Batman stared back at her. "No, I don't," he replied.

She smiled grimly. "I wouldn't bandy about words like monster and evil if I were you, Batman. I mean, look at you. You stalk about in the night, spying on people, breaking into buildings, attacking people you believe to be guilty without any shred of evidence for their guilt. Beating criminals to within an inch of their life. Torturing people to get information out of them. You're a real hero, aren't you?"

"I do what needs to be done," he retorted. "What has to be done for the good of this city."

"Oh, dress violence and voyeurism up for a good cause and it's all fine, isn't it?" she retorted. "You keep telling yourself that, Batman. You're the only one who believes it."

He looked at her. "You're an intelligent woman, Dr. Quinzel," he said. "I admire your intellect as well as your compassion. I just want you to be careful. He's fooled even intelligent people before. Fooling people is what he does best, aside from causing chaos. I would hate to see him twist your intelligence to serve his cause."

"That's not at all patronizing of you," she retorted. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I can't handle myself. Or can you honestly tell me you'd be warning a male doctor to be careful?"

"Yes," he replied. "But not necessarily for the same reasons."

"Well, I'm a big girl, thank you, Batman," she retorted. "And I'd ask you to leave my office now, if I may."

He nodded, heading for the open window where he had entered. "Those are beautiful flowers," he said, nodding at the vase of roses on her desk. "From an admirer?"

"Don't really think that's any of your business," she retorted. "But yes, they are."

"J?" he asked, indicating the note attached to the flowers.

"Jack," she replied. "Jack Napier. He's a comedian who does stand up not far from here. I like a guy who can make me laugh."

Batman nodded slowly, climbing out the window. "You got any admirers, Batman?" she asked quietly.

"No."

"That's the thing about monsters. They always end up alone," she murmured.

Batman looked at her, opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. In an instant, he had disappeared into the night sky.

Dr. Quinzel looked after him for a moment, then reached into the open drawer and pulled out a switchblade knife. She slid this into her pocket, turned off the lamp, and left the office. She went down the stairs and through the corridors of the dark and deserted Asylum until she reached a particular cell. It was labelled: _Identity Unknown: Alias the Joker_.

She unlocked the door and slipped inside. She couldn't see anything in the darkness, but was suddenly seized and slammed against the stone wall of the cell. She heard a soft, low chuckle, and then he was pressed against her, his hands all over her body, awakening it, his red lips kissing her face, her neck, her mouth.

"Oh…Mr. J!" she gasped, clutching his body tighter against hers, twisting her fingers in his green hair and throwing her head back as he kissed down her neck.

"Did you bring it, sweets?" he murmured.

She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the knife. He seized it from her, flicking it open, and then gently slid the blade across her flesh, not enough to cut it, or break, but just enough to tantalize it, to tease her. She moaned in excitement and he chuckled, licking the blade and then licking her neck again, sending blood trickling down her clothes.

"Thanks, dollface," he grinned, flicking the blade shut again and drawing away from her suddenly. He went over to put it under his pillow. "It's just what I need to break me outta this dump."

"You will take me with you when you go, won't you, puddin'?" she breathed, still panting in excitement.

"You'll have to wait and see, won't you, toots?" he murmured, grinning at her. "Don't wanna spoil the surprise. That wouldn't be very fun, would it?"

"I know how we can have some fun, Mr. J," she breathed, gazing at him adoringly.

He chuckled again, coming back over to her and placing a hand either side of her, leaning against the wall. "It's true what they say, isn't it?" he grinned. "Shrinks are all obsessed with sex."

"This shrink is obsessed with you, puddin'," she murmured, unbuttoning his shirt.

He giggled. "That don't sound healthy, Doc. You might wanna get that checked out. Maybe see a shrink or something."

She laughed as he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up against the wall. She wrapped her legs around him as he kissed her face. "Had a visit from your friend tonight," she murmured, pulling his shirt off.

"Who?" he asked, unbuttoning her blouse.

"Batman," she replied.

He chuckled. "Good old Bats. What did he want?"

"To see your file," she murmured.

"Yeah, he's pretty obsessed with me too, toots," he giggled. "You've got competition, I warn you."

"He also warned me about you," she murmured. "Saying how you were evil and everything. All those things people say who don't know you, who don't understand you the way I do. All those stupid, mindless, ignorant people…oh, puddin'!" she gasped as his hand slid up her skirt. "Oh, puddin', they just all deserve to die!" she gasped.

He chuckled again. "Yeah, they do, sweets," he agreed. "I'm so glad you understand me, baby. It makes me real happy. It makes me laugh."

He started laughing, his sexy, gorgeous, maniacal laugh, and Dr. Harleen Quinzel shut her eyes as she surrendered herself completely to him. "Oh, Mr. J, I love you," she whispered.

She opened her eyes to see him grinning at her, his beautiful, insane, and yet somehow perfect grin. He kissed her. "Welcome to the madness, sweets," he whispered.

**The End **


End file.
